


The Man Who Unmasked a Fox

by Quillori



Category: Onmyouji | The Yin-Yang Master (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2505098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/pseuds/Quillori





	The Man Who Unmasked a Fox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allekha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/gifts).



"The strangest thing is that he isn't at all happy to be rescued. How could he have wanted to go on living like that?" Hiromasa stared helplessly at his cup, as if the answer might be written in its depths. 

Seimei was sitting across from him, the late afternoon sun bathing the verandah in gold, picking out the gilded edge of a tray of fruit, the ornaments in a hovering shikigami's hair, the pure white of Seimei's robes. "If you were truly thirsty, would you not prefer the illusion of a drink to nothing?"

"Not if meant never having a real drink again!" Hiromasa frowned, thinking about it. "How can you say he had nothing? There were men at court who envied him. Perhaps he didn't have everything he wanted, but it wasn't nothing. He had a future. He had friends. I was his friend. Why was an illusion better?"

Seimei sighed and poured more sake. "For some people, anything less than the full measure of their desires is truly nothing. It is not unusual that such a man should attract spirits."

§

Now that the nights were becoming warmer, the Minister of the Centre liked to sit in his gardens, drinking and admiring the moon, still half veiled by the spring haze. The melancholy sound of the koto floated up like incense smoke towards the sky. He had met the woman who played the koto quite recently, and, at once enamoured, had brought her home as soon as she could be persuaded to come. She was his fourth wife, and of no very impressive background, but anyone who saw her dark hair, longer indeed than she was tall, or heard the restrained longing of her playing, could hardly help but think she was a most superior woman. Certainly he himself was delighted with her, and his affection only grew deeper the more time he spent in her company. Never before, not even in the flush of his hot-blooded youth, had he found a woman who seemed to him to so perfectly embody every possible feminine virtue.

§

"I suppose you must be right," Hiromasa said, but he continued to look troubled. "When I think what he did, I can't feel sorry for him. But when I think of what happened to him, it's impossible not to feel pity. I remember there was a court lady once who was growing rather old, and became quite strange. She would behave sometimes as though she were a young woman, and pick up any old thing as though it were a letter, or gift. Or she'd gather up twigs and leaves and then serve them up as though they were a meal. At other times she was quite normal. Some people laughed at her, but I thought it was very sad, even if she seemed happy with her bits of twigs. It's the same with him."

§

It was as though darkness had swallowed up the noonday sun, black clouds roiling across the sky; within moments the rain was falling, heavy as a waterfall, so that the way ahead was quite hidden – a way that was in any case impassible for already the road was turning to mud, and would soon be no more than a sucking, clinging mire. The blinding rain pounded down with enough force to sting, and only the deafening peels of thunder was loud enough to sound out over its drumming roar. Hiromasa tried to tell himself that only moments before he had been regretting the relentless heat of the sun, which had left him hot and miserable, his light summer robes soaked through with perspiration. Could they really be any more soaked with water? But such reflections did nothing to comfort his desire to get out of the rain and the mud.

He stumbled on a few paces and found a gate beneath his outstretched hand: rickety and rotten in places, but still a gate, and surely on the other side of it there would be some sort of building in which he could take shelter. 

It was a poor sort of place, the little house behind the gate, really more of a ruin now than a house, and not somewhere that could ever have been elegant. But it was dry, or dry at least compared to the summer storm. The roof, it was true, was less complete than it could have been, and there were empty gaps where some of the windows and shutters should have been, but had it been less ruined, it would have been more difficult to enter, and as it seemed to be abandoned there would have been no one to let him in. Hiromasa settled himself in the corner of a room, as far away from holes as possible, and prepared to wait: no doubt the storm would die away as fast as it had arisen. Inside, the incessant sound of the rain was a little muted, and he could hear the sounds of the house above it: the remains of a shutter banging somewhere, a quiet rustle that might have been mice, something that was surely breathing … the house wasn't quite deserted after all. He was appalled at his own rudeness at pushing his way into even such a humble place. What must they think of him? Was everyone hiding, believing he must be some ruffian come to rob them of what little they possessed?

He went cautiously to the door of the next room, trying not to sound like a desperate thief, and cleared his throat politely to indicate the occupants might invite him to speak to them.

§

The conversation turned to other things, drifting at times into companionable silence. It was, Hiromasa thought, very nice just to sit here and look out over the garden. And at least Seimei could be relied on to welcome his company. He cut that thought off quickly, for it was quite unfair. In the circumstances, her behaviour had been quite natural and correct. Praiseworthy. Loyal (even if not to him). Still, he found himself telling Seimei about it: the sudden storm and the ruined house, the mysterious sad beauty who had made it her home, the entirely happy ending that he quite definitely didn't in any way regret.

§

Time passed, and the Minister of the Centre's attention remained fixed upon his paragon. Indeed, he barely remembered the respect he owed even to his principal wife, and all three ladies, inclined at first to be indulgent, believing their new rival to be a passing fancy without the charm or accomplishments to hold his attention long, now looked resentfully in the direction of her apartments, and stored up their grievances against her.

The plum and then the cherry had blossomed, and the petals of each in turn had faded and fallen as spring had passed into early summer: now it was the time of irises. And indeed it was in connection with irises that a most amazing thing occurred. As the Iris Festival approached, everyone had been very busy: iris leaves and mugwort had been strewn on the roofs, iris wine had been prepared, iris flowers had been turned into all manner of ornaments, garlanding everything from swords to carriages. The Minister of the Centre held an archery contest, which was naturally attended by the many friends of his eldest son, now a rather high-spirited young gentleman.

Amongst those friends was Takasue. He was a quiet man, who could always be relied upon to do and say exactly the correct thing, but nonetheless he had a determined, forceful air about him that made people a little uncomfortable. Throughout the day he kept looking at the Minister of the Centre and frowning, and several times he approached his friend Sanenari, the Minister's son, with questions about his father's health. Eventually he seized an opportunity to approach Sanenari's father himself, and engaged him in a private conversation.

The Minister was at first inclined to think him drunk. The whole story was preposterous! His health was as good as it had ever been, and while it was true he had not troubled to inquire too closely into his new love's unfortunately provincial background, that was no reason for insisting on such a ridiculous tale. Indeed, he was quite angry to have his private affairs discussed so insolently. But Takasue would not be shaken, and it was true – a worrying fact that he could have had no way of knowing – that she alone of all the women in his household had refused to wear irises in her hair or sleep upon an iris pillow.

Finally, Takasue convinced him to make a trial of the matter. Takasue put together a bundle of iris and mugwort, arranging it in a must unusual and distinguished manner, and muttered over it some words no one caught: he was to carry it at all times on the fifth day itself, particularly among his women, and not set it aside until the festival was over and the evil spirits attracted to that unlucky day had all been banished.

As soon as his fourth wife saw the bundle of irises, she turned pale. "Must it be so soon," she cried in a weak voice, as though all her strength had deserted her. She turned her face away, and he thought she was crying. "I did not want to leave you," she said, the words faint and hopeless. Her husband was torn between fear for himself, if Takasue were right, and concern for the lady who had till now been everything to him. Hurrying from the garden, he called for her attendants to come to her, hoping against hope that there was some other explanation for her collapse. Perhaps she was merely possessed? He would call upon every exorcist he could find to save her. But even though he was gone only a little while, when he returned with her women, she had vanished utterly, as though she had run full tilt from the house, or risen up into the air and flown away. It seemed Takasue was right in his suspicions after all; nor were the Minister's other ladies slow to reveal the many undesirable changes he had undergone from the moment of her arrival.

§

There was palace gossip to discuss too, although one piece of it was perhaps unsuitable. A priestess at small city shrine had claimed to have visions of a white fox, which demanded to be propitiated with rice cake offerings and prayers. There was much argument within the court whether to believe her, or whether she sought only to aggrandise herself. And even those who believed her visions were genuine were unsure whether it was just a trick by the fox, or whether it really was a powerful enough spirit to demand worship. No one had been quite tactless enough to ask Seimei's opinion, and Hiromasa himself was reluctant to bring it up, although he was sure Seimei had heard about it one way or another. 

§

It was really too bad. The enervating heat of late summer made the shortest excursion seem too much effort, and time hung heavy: just the sort of occasion one wanted a close friend or two, to while away a long afternoon in desultory chat. But they were all busy with their own affairs, and didn't come to visit. Nor did Hiromasa visit them, because it was too hot to be worth the effort, but one is naturally more inclined to censure laziness in others than in oneself. Still, Takasue at least might have visited: for all his concern with propriety, he was ambitious; well aware he came from an unfavoured cadet branch of his family, he needed to make as many personal connections as possible himself if he wanted to advance in life. Therefore he had cultivated many people, including the Sanenari and Hiromasa. But now it seemed he had dropped them all, revealing the hollow foundations of his apparent friendship. The last time Hiromasa had seen him, he had spoken of nothing but his upcoming marriage, the Minister of the Centre having been grateful enough to him, and impressed enough by unusual abilities, to take him as a son-in-law. Suddenly the man with no sponsors had a powerful protector, but what a shame it had caused him to abandon his former friends.

Since no one was coming to visit him, perhaps he might pay a visit to the lady of the ruined house? It seemed a long way to go on such a hot day, but she had been very sympathetic, and the day would seem more bearable in her company. There was a small pond in the garden of her house, made muddy by the rain, and the last time he had seen her they had stayed up to admire the dew on the lotus leaves at dawn: he thought she was herself like the lotus flower, not only for her refined beauty, but that her elegance was untouched by the by the difficulties and hardship of her life. She wouldn't speak more than a few words about her past, but he gathered that, having no family to protect her, she had been been taken up by some man who brought her to the capital and then mistreated her, constantly threatening her and finally driving her out with almost nothing. Not a man, surely, but a brute! No decent gentleman would behave in such away. 

§

"There's not such a difference between gods and demons as you seem to think."

Unwilling to ask directly, Hiromasa had edged cautiously towards the subject of spirits and false revelations, which Seimei seemed more than happy to discuss, although without once saying anything that seemed relevant to the shrine priestess's questionable vision. Hiromasa made one more attempt - surely if he gamely followed the conversation far enough, it would end up somewhere informative? "Well, sometimes an angry spirit is appeased with worship, which makes it a sort of god, I suppose. But they must normally be quite different things?"

Seimei shook his head. "No, the difference lies not in them, but in their relationship to people. Those that inflict suffering, or that can be defeated, are monsters: those that offer useful benefits, or are just too strong to resist, are worshipped. It's mostly self-interest." He caught sight of Hiromasa's expression and smiled at him, not unkindly. "You're too good a man to believe me: you want your gods to reflect your own character. Tell me more about your mysterious beauty, and stop worrying about spirits."

§

The strange event at the Iris Festival had a sequel, even more strange and remarkable. Takasue's friends, at first inclined to criticise his sudden absence, or to make a joke of his excessive dedication to his new wife (or to his new father-in-law), began to grow uneasy. _No one_ had seen him, and, even more strangely, both Sanenari and his father denied that any marriage had taken place, or even been contemplated. Certainly the minister had been grateful (as well as saddened at the loss of so unparalleled a woman), but he had not been blessed with an abundance of daughters, and he was not so grateful as to squander one so lowly a husband. Where then had Takasue gone, and how had he come to think his suit would be welcome?

Days passed, and then a month was gone, and still there was no word from Takasue. Finally some gardeners at the Minister of the Centre's mansion, hearing noises beneath the floor of a small outbuilding, and thinking it must be vermin, took up the flooring. There, curled up in a hole beneath the foundations, dirty and ragged and half starved, they found Takasue. He could not say at first what had happened to him, or explain how he came to be there, but kept asking for his wife, and giving the servants orders as though they worked for him. For a long time he would not believe he hadn't been married: he remembered clearly moving into his wife's house, where he was giving palatial quarters and lived in luxury, dining on the finest tidbits and dressing in the most elegant clothes.

He had in fact been living beneath the floor the whole time, subsisting on mice and lizards and such like things. The gardeners said that when they found him both he and the hole smelled strongly of foxes. Clearly he had been beguiled, no doubt as a punishment for driving away the fox-spirit that had entangled so august a personage. But how was it that, strong enough to banish her easily, he had at once fallen prey to some other fox?

Coming at last to accept that his longed for marriage and new life had been no more than a dream, and that such a future must be forever impossible for a man to whom such a humiliating experience had occurred, he confessed all. He had come upon the lady in question and, struck by her unusual beauty, decided to further his ambitions by means of a simple ruse. He would arrange for her to meet some powerful man , having given her careful instructions as to how she should gradually raise suspicion against herself, and how she was to flee the house as soon as she saw a bunch of iris and mugwort arranged in a particular and distinctive way. He had forced her compliance by means of threats, having convinced her that he could persuade her new protector to abandon her at any time, leaving her at his, Takasue's, mercy. Thus he would make a name for himself, and win the necessary support and favour to have a glittering career at court. It was clear that a real fox living in mansion garden had been offended by this deception, and decided to punish X=Takasue appropriately. Having in fact no power at all to discern or control foxes, he had had no defence.

Delighted that she was not after all a dangerous fox, and reproaching himself bitterly that he had failed to protect her, the Minister of the Centre welcomed his lady's return, and treated her henceforth with even greater affection than previously, if such a thing were possible. Her suffering seemed only to have added a certain spiritual dimension to her beauty. She displayed a touching awareness of the impermanence of things, and where before he had thought nothing could suit her so well as the misty days of spring, he now saw she was even more lovely in autumn, playing her koto in chorus with the droning crickets, or gazing wistfully at the bright moon above the dying leaves. She had developed an interest in religion, and if he was reluctant to let her make even the shortest pilgrimage, her favourite shrine at least grew rich from the offerings he made to please her.

§

"So of course she went back to him."

"Poor Hiromasa! Have some more sake."

"I don't mind at all. No, really I don't. I'm glad for her, although I do think he could have had a little more faith in her, and not assume at once … Seimei! That shrine everyone has been talking about - it's the one the Minister of the Centre is now supporting so generously. He's arranged to have that revelation accepted as genuine, and offerings made in perpetuity to the spirit. What if she's a fox after all, and she planned everything from the start? No one will believe she isn't human now, not after Takasue confessed. What should we do?"

Seimei showed not the slightest intention of stirring from the verandah. "Why, we should stay here and enjoy ourselves."

"Really! How can you say such a thing, when some spirit may be taking advantage of an unsuspecting victim."

"But if she's prepared to go to so much effort to be worshipped why interfere? Longing for things one can't have creates imbalance and evil – we shall limit ourselves to wanting to enjoy this fine afternoon, and let her do as she desires. No doubt she'll repay her worshippers as reliably as any other kami. Have another slice of this pear and don't worry about it."

Hiromasa paused, the pear halfway to his mouth. "This isn't an illusion, is it? I'm not really eating beetles and grass, and drinking ditchwater?"

Seimei laughed. "You've only just thought of that? It's one of the first things people say about foxes, but you've never questioned anything I gave you."

Hiromasa looked reproachfully at Seimei, and then dubiously at the pear. "You still haven't said it's real."

"Would I play such a trick on you?"

Which was not, Hiromasa reflected, a straight answer, but it _tasted_ like pear, and he had no intention of giving up visiting Seimei, so he supposed he would just have to hope for the best.


End file.
